


Critical Role Relationship Week 2018

by aban_ataashi



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Critical Role Relationship Week, F/F, F/M, Gen, Rarepair, background pikelan, cross posted on tumblr, gals being penpals, will update tags etc as i go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-24 13:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aban_ataashi/pseuds/aban_ataashi
Summary: CR Relationship Week 2018! A week's worth of one-shots focused on the relationship between 2 random characters. Will update summary as I add each story.Day 1- The Vicious Truth: (Fjord & Mollymauk)Day 2- Kittens Are Cute (And So Are You): (Grog/Keyleth)Day 3- Page Turner: (Caleb & Taryon)Day 4- A Comma After Dearest (Jester/Calianna)Day 5- The Rules Of Courtship: (Pike & Kaylie)Day 6- Late Nights and Bloody Knuckles: (Grog & Yasha)Day 7- Give And Take: (Jester & Nott)





	1. The Vicious Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone and happy CR Relationship Week! I think most people know how this goes, but if not- every day from June 17-June 23 I'll be posting a work involving the relationship between 2 randomly selected characters. Some will be campaign 1, some will be campaign 2, some might be a combo. For Day 1, I rolled Molly and Fjord. Enjoy!

In most ways, Mollymauk is nothing like Fjord.

For the first few weeks they know each other, Fjord can’t help but catalogue their differences. Nothing seems to phase the tiefling. While Fjord moves through the world with a quiet diplomacy, Molly glides and dances, flamboyant and loud and utterly indifferent to what anyone thinks of him. He covers his purple skin in tattoos and his horns in jewelry. When people give him looks of suspicion, he just smoothes his extravagant coat and throws a wicked smile their way.

Fjord envies him, just a bit. Mollymauk would never feel the need to file down his teeth in some sort of bid for approval.

Then this _Lucien_ thing happens. Mollymauk stands defensively within the Circle of Truth, head held high. He talks about waking up in a grave, and Fjord can almost hear the distant echo of the ocean around him.

Fjord begins to think he and Mollymauk might have some things in common.

“So those lies you told about your past,” Fjord asks him one day on the road. “About where you got your abilities and your powers. Where’d you come up with all that?” He speaks cautiously. Molly may act nonchalant about most things, but his old life is a prickly subject. Fjord knows this, but the road is long and he can’t fight the urge to try and figure this strange man out.

Molly grins innocently- or at least, as innocently as a red-eyed tiefling can manage. “If I recall correctly, you weren’t exactly fooled by any of it. It’s not a really a lie if nobody believes you, is it? It’s more of a story, I think.”

Fjord rolls his eyes. “Stories, then. You seem to have a few of them. You make them all up yourself?”

“Sure. People like certain types of stories. I’m pretty good at figuring out what they want to hear. A little drama makes things interesting. Yours, for example- washed up from a shipwreck with a special sword and special powers.” His smile widens, and a glint flickers in his eyes. “It’s good. I might have to borrow it sometime.”

“The story or the sword?”

“Just the story, for now. I’m not sure how that magic would mix with mine. Might be interesting to see, but… that’s an experiment for later.”

Fjord lets out a small chuckle, but makes a mental note to keep an eye on his sword anyway. “And you never worried about the truth catching up to you?”

“Do you ever worry about that?”

Fjord nearly stumbles over his own feet. Does Molly know- or at least suspect- the details he’s leaving out when he tells the group of his visions, of the strange voice?

Molly walks as casually as ever, his expression still relaxed and his eyes unreadable. “I mean… you still don’t know the true meaning of your dreams. What if you don’t like the answers?”

Fjord takes a calming breath. Molly doesn’t know, because there isn’t anything he _could_ know. Fjord has been up front with everyone. If he leaves out a few of the messages or chooses not to alert them to every dream… well, it’s not really _lying,_ is it?

And in any case, he still doesn’t know the truth of what’s happening. But there lies the true difference between him and Mollymauk, something that still hasn’t changed. Molly sees the truth of his past as something vicious, a mysterious monster that must be avoided at all costs. Fjord looks at that monster and wonders what he could learn from it.

“Even if the answers aren’t what I want,” he says. “I still need to know. That’s why I was going to the Academy. Whatever happens, I’ll at least be prepared.”

Molly shakes his head, slowly. “Worrying never prepared anyone for anything. Maybe you’re right and some old truths will get to me eventually, but I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it.”

“That’s not-”

“ _Gods,_ this is a boring conversation!” Molly interrupts, throwing his head back. “Let’s talk about something more entertaining- like getting paid for this job. I’ve heard a certain bathhouse in this city is _luxurious,_ and I for one plan on spending far too much money on fancy soap as soon as we collect our reward.”

Molly talks on in this manner for a while, and Fjord allows himself to be distracted for now. Later, he will think about past lives and past deaths, and whether Mollymauk is smart to run from ancient secrets rather than try and unravel them as Fjord does. He’ll remember Molly’s words in the tavern.

_The truth thinks you owe it something._

The words ring true, and Fjord still doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or bad. Fjord doesn’t know if he agrees with Molly’s ideas or his methods.

But he thinks that maybe, despite their differences, he understands.


	2. Kittens Are Cute (And So Are You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 is Grog and Keyleth! Lucky me, because that's my favorite rarepair. So have some achingly sweet modern au fluff, and if you want something set in canon and/or a little angstier (but still overall happy) check out my other Grogleth story- After, And After That.
> 
> Enjoy!

Keyleth has the morning shift at the tiny animal shelter on the outskirts of Emon, which typically means she’s the first to arrive. Today, however, someone waits for her at the gates. She can barely make out the figure- the sun has just barely started to rise- but they sit quietly on the sidewalk, looking down at a box in their lap. _How long have they been waiting?_ Keyleth wonders guiltily. She hurriedly parks her electric motorcycle and rushes to meet them, fumbling for the keys.

“Good morning! I hope you haven’t been waiting too long!”

The guy on the sidewalk looks up quickly at her voice, and his face breaks into a grin. He’s broad-shouldered, and when he stands up Keyleth is surprised to see that he’s actually taller than her.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, his voice a low rumble. He scratches at his beard, and Keyleth can’t help but notice the tattoos that line his neck and disappear into his gray sweatshirt. Even beneath the sweatshirt, it’s easy to tell this guy has real muscles. The keys nearly slip from Keyleth’s fingers, and she hurriedly turns to give the lock her full attention, and to hide her blushing.

“How can I help you?”

“Uh… I found these little guys this morning…” He holds the box out hesitantly, and for the first time Keyleth looks inside. Seven little faces blink up at her.

“Oh!” Keyleth’s instincts kick in, and she takes the box of kittens from the man. “Come on, we should get them inside right away!” She leads the man into the shelter, drilling him on the typical questions the whole way. It seems he works late hours, found the kittens in an alleyway after his shift, and rounded them up.

“They’re just so _little,”_ he says, concern etched on his face, and a small smile creeps across Keyleth’s face. Working at the shelter, she’s seen the way people treat animals. Sometimes, it makes her angry. But every now and then people do things like this and she’s reminded of the good in the world.

“I have to take them in the back,” Keyleth says, eyeing the kittens. “They need food.” They need more than that, of course, but the paperwork and vaccinations and examinations can be taken care of later. “Wait here,” she tells the man, and quickly gets to work.

After the kittens have been taken care of, Keyleth makes the rounds to the other animals of the shelter. She feeds and cleans and refills water bowls, and after a couple hours Vex pops her head into the kennel.

“Uh, Keyleth?”

“Vex! I’m glad you’re working today-” Keyleth is about to tell her friend about the new kittens when Vex interrupts her.

“Who’s the giant asleep in the waiting room?”

_Shit_. A strangled noise of surprise escapes from Keyleth’s throat. How in the world could she _forget?_ “He’s still here?!”

He is indeed still here, although he wakes with a start when Keyleth bangs into the waiting room. “I’m _so_ sorry!” she says. “You didn’t have to stay here so long!”

He shrugs, stretching his arms. “S’no problem. I’ve slept in worse places.” He rubs the sleep from his eyes, then looks hopefully at Keyleth. “How they doin’?”

Keyleth hesitates, then motions to the door. It’s the least she can do, after this guy brought them in and then camped out in the waiting room. “Wanna come see?”

He jumps up, knocking the chair over in the process, although he doesn’t seem to notice. He approaches Keyleth with a wide grin and sticks out his hand. “Name’s Grog, by the way.”

“Keyleth.” She shakes his hand, then pulls him through the door.

The kittens, despite being hungry, are doing well. It’s hard for Keyleth to hide a smile as she watches Grog wave his fingers at them through the cages. “So they’ll be okay?” he asks for the umpteenth time.

“They should be. We just need to find them good homes.” Keyleth peers through the cage at one of the kittens, a fierce gray one that stares her down through the cage door. The tiny kitten reminds Keyleth of her own cat, Minxy. She wonders idly if Minxy would object to a bit of company.

Next to her, Grog is smiling at the largest of the litter, a black and white kitten that sits quietly, looking back at him with serious eyes.

“Would you like to hold her?” Keyleth asks.

Grog looks startled. “She’s so tiny. I don’t wanna hurt her.”

“Just be gentle.” Keyleth undoes the latch and slowly lifts the kitten, moving her to Grog’s arms as Grog stands frozen. He strokes her softly, almost as if he’s afraid to touch her. The kitten starts to purr, and a look of surprised delight flashes across Grog’s face.

“She likes you,” Keyleth says. “Would you like to adopt her?”

“I dunno,” Grog replies slowly, but Keyleth knows the look on his face. It was the same look Vex had when she found Trinket, and the same look she herself had when she found Minxy. “I gotta ask my roommate first. But I think Pike would like her.”

The kitten yawns, and Keyleth takes her back and returns her to the cage. “These guys are lucky you work crazy hours,” she jokes, and Grog laughs.

“Nightclub hours. I’m a bouncer at a few different places around town.”

“Ah. Makes sense. Do you often end up rescuing baby animals?” Keyleth teases.

Grog strikes a jokingly heroic pose. “You’d be surprised. I see all sorts of crazy shit.”

“Like what?”

That’s all the prompting Grog needs to launch into a variety of stories, most of which involve bar fights and _have_ to be exaggerated. When she calls bullshit, however, Grog, refuses to back down, insisting that he _did too_ get away with punching out a cop, and that he _did too_ celebrate by drinking a jar of mayonnaise. Keyleth retaliates with her own stories, and it might be the first time she’s been proud of the embarrassing amount of times she’s been arrested for accidental misdemeanors.

“Aw, hell,” she says finally, looking at the clock on the wall. “I gotta get back to work. Thanks again for bringing these guys in, and I was serious. You should think about adopting.”

“I will,” Grog promises. Then, suddenly, he adds, “You should come to the club tonight,” He fishes around in his pocket and finally produces a card that reads _Greyskull Club._ “My buddy Scanlan is playing. ‘Gonna be a good show. And you could say hi.” He looks away slightly, as if embarrassed.

A warm feeling blooms in Keyleth’s chest as she takes the card. “Sounds like fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you there.”

Grog beams at her, and Keyleth watches him go, chuckling as he ducks through the narrow doorframe. She turns the card over in her fingers for a moment, then slides it into her pocket with a smile.


	3. Page Turner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3- Caleb Widogast and Taryon Darrington (done in a bit of a roundabout way). Enjoy!

Caleb was in his book-reading position, and the rest of the Mighty Nein knew better than to try to talk to him. He had gotten back from the bookstore only a few minutes before and had promptly planted himself in a chair in the corner of the inn, coat draped around him like a blanket and nose stuck firmly in the pages.

Tonight, his focus was particularly strong. He read all through dinner and well after, even as the rest of his group began to get rowdy at the inn’s bar. Eventually Molly sauntered over to him, a drink in hand. “Good book?”

“No,” Caleb said flatly, his eyes never leaving the page.

Molly raised an eyebrow. “So…why are you still reading it?”

Caleb huffed, his attention finally sliding away from the book in his lap. “Pumat said it contained information on powerful magic and artifacts.”

Nott, hovering nearby, perked up at the mention of magic. “Does it?”

Caleb sighed and waved his hand. “Sort of. But it’s all rubbish. There’s no way even half of this is true. The author _claims_ this is all based on his own experiences, but the stuff he talks about...it reads like an old fairytale.”

The rest of the group had drifted over at that point, and Jester reached for the book with a curious grin. “I like fairytales! Let me see!”

Caleb moved the book out of her reach. “ _Nein._ I’m in the middle of an important chapter.”

“You said you didn’t like it!”

“I said it wasn’t a realistic depiction of actual events. There’s still a chance it could hold useful information.”

Whatever Jester said in response, Caleb didn’t hear. He was once again absorbed in the book, and he continued his reading as his friends finished their drinks and gradually retreated upstairs to their rooms. It was many hours later that Nott found Caleb asleep in his chair, the book still in his slap. She shook him awake gently.

“You stayed up to finish? Did you find anything?”

Caleb yawned and shook his head. “The whole thing is probably made up. I don’t know how anyone could be expected believe any of it.” He stood and stretched, slipping _The Daring Trials and Tribulations of Sir Taryon Darrington_ into his satchel. “But I have to admit, the writing was pretty good.”


	4. A Comma After Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4- Jester/Calianna! These two make me so happy and I've actually had something like this in my head for a while. Enjoy!

They say they’ll keep touch, and they do.

Jester and Cali exchange letters on a regular basis, and Cali delights in the fact that she has a pen pal. Having friends is still new and exciting for her, and she delights in every letter she receives. Jester’s letters are long- she tells Cali all about the adventures the Mighty Nein get themselves into. Cali returns the favor, keeping Jester updated on her dealings with the cult and her search for more artifacts.

Mostly, however, their letters speak of less important things. Jester tells Cali about the new tricks she learns from the Traveler, and ring she found that day in a treasure pile, and how she misses her mother. Cali tells Jester about her first day on the coast, and the new foods she tries, and the fancy bedsheets she accidently set fire to at the inn.

The other members of the Mighty Nein write as well, although less often. Cali even makes some other allies in her travels. She delights in every friend she meets, but Jester remains the one she treasures the most.

                                                                                                                         

There are times Cali can’t help but worry. Jester’s letters are full of optimism and bravado, but she’s getting involved in some dangerous stuff these days. Then again, so is Cali. At least Jester has people around her to help her out and keep her safe.

Sometimes, however, those people are the ones that make Cali worry. Or maybe _worry_ isn’t the right word, but they give her a strange painful twisting in her gut and set her teeth on edge.

Jester writes a lot about Fjord. They’re obviously close- Cali knew that much already. But something in Cali… worries when she hears Jester talk about him so much. The feeling doesn’t make any sense to Cali, and yet she can’t make it go away.

That is, until Jester writes about how somebody else in the group _likes_ Fjord and she’s going to set them up. Jester laments that she’ll probably need to stop flirting with him so much, which is a shame because he’s so much fun to tease, but isn’t it worth it because these two would be such a cute couple?

Cali finds herself in a good mood for the rest of the day.

 

Jester sends drawings as well. They’re usually doodles and caricatures, but occasionally she’ll send one that Cali knows must have taken a lot of work. She sends portraits sometimes, of herself and the rest of the Mighty Nein. _In case you forgot what we look like,_ she jokes. As if Cali could forget.

Once, she sends a portrait of Cali. There’s no explanation, just a page tucked in the envelope alongside the usual letter. Cali doesn’t know what to think at first. Her own appearance is a tricky topic, and she’s still not completely sure how she feels about the dragonish blood that makes itself so obvious in her features. But she looks over the picture, and she has to admit… it’s nice. Jester drew her smiling, with her hair in her face and sunlight glinting off her scales. In Jester’s picture, Cali shines.

 _You made me look pretty,_ she writes to Jester.

When the response comes, it warms Cali in a way fire breath can’t even begin to compare to. _Because you are pretty!_

 

Cali hasn’t done much reading in her life, but she thinks that romance novels would be a lot like Jester’s letters.  Jester writes in a flowery, rambling language. The romantic descriptions almost seem out of place in the letters that describe fighting bandits and living on the road, but Cali likes it. She also likes the endearments and compliments that Jester tends to sprinkle in.

 _Dearest Calianna,_ her letters begin. The greeting is used for a long time, letter after letter. _Dearest Calianna._

Then one day, Cali opens a letter and something is different. She doesn’t quite realize what is at first, until her eyes return to the beginning.

_Dearest, Calianna_

Cali can’t explain why, but her stomach flutters and her thoughts are hazy for the rest of the day.

 

Cali waits anxiously at the designated meeting spot. She’s been going over the words she’ll say all day, reciting speeches in her head and under her breath, but she’s still nervous. There are so many ways she could mess this up, and she doesn’t want to ruin the visit, and maybe it’s better if she just doesn’t bring it up at all…

And then somebody shouts her name, and Cali looks up to see a flash of blue running towards her. Her heart nearly leaps out of her chest as Jester wraps her in a crushing hug.

“Oh, _Cali!_ I missed you so much!” She twirls in excitement, not letting go of Cali but instead spinning her off her feet, and all of Cali’s worries dissipate like smoke. Before she can reconsider, Cali wraps her arms around Jester’s shoulders and kisses her.

Jester makes a small noise of surprise, but quickly returns the kiss full force. After what feels like an eternity, they break away.

“I, uh…” Cali stammers. “I missed you, too.”

“I can tell,” Jester giggles, and Cali thinks that even her scales must be blushing. Jester takes her hand, a teasing smile on her face, and begins to pull Cali down the road. “Come on. I think we have a lot of catching up to do.”


	5. The Rules of Courtship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 is Pike and Kaylie! Enjoy!

“Do you have a minute, Kaylie?”

Kaylie looks up from her violin to Pike, who stands in the doorway with two drinks in hand. She pauses a moment, a bit surprised by the visit at this late hour, but shrugs and motions her in. Pike smiles and hands a drink to Kaylie, then takes a long sip from her own cup.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Well…” Pike pauses, as if searching for the words. Her behavior strikes Kaylie as odd; she’s always known the cleric to speak her mind.  “How’s school?”

“Actually not bad.” Kaylie grins. “They didn’t know what hit ‘em when I showed up.”

Pike chuckles softly. “I knew you’d do well.” She falls silent once more, chewing her lip in contemplation as she studies Kaylie.

Kaylie hadn’t been sure how to feel about Pike Trickfoot at first. She was like the rest of Vox Machina, in that it took a while for her to look at the family Scanlan _chose_ to have and not feel a little angry. She kept her distance from all of them for a long while, her father included, until he went and died and came back angry. Kaylie would be lying if she said she hadn’t felt a small amount of guilty satisfaction when he stormed out on Vox Machina and chose _her._

But those old wounds have long healed over, and in the relative normalcy of her current life Kaylie could appreciate that her father’s other family were, for the most part, pretty cool. Especially Pike. Even excluding that she brought Kaylie’s father back from the dead, Pike would be impossible to hate. For a religious woman, she’s surprisingly… _fun._ The fact that she and Scanlan are now dating only occasionally makes things awkward.

Kaylie wonders if that’s what this is about.

“You didn’t come here to ask me about school,” she prods, and Pike blushes.

“You’re right. You’re right.” She laughs again and takes another long drink. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d be so nervous.” She gives Kaylie a sheepish glance. “I just realized the other day that I’ve never asked how you feel about me and Scanlan. You know. Together.”

“You could do worse,” Kaylie says with a shrug. “You could also do better, but hey. The heart wants what it wants, I suppose.” Pike gives Kaylie a smirk that says _I know, right?_ , and Kaylie’s expression softens. “Honestly, it’s nice to see the two of you happy. Seems like it was a long time coming.”

Pike nods, and hesitantly begins to speak. “And what would you think if we were to… that is, if I were to ask him to… take the next step. Together.”

“Pike Trickfoot, are you trying to get my permission to ask for Scanlan’s hand in marriage?”

Pike runs a hand through her hair in embarrassment, but her smile is wide and bright. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and… it only seems right to get his family’s approval first.”

Kaylie laughs. “I never thought the two of you cared much for the usual rules of courtship. Why start now?”

“Because you’re important him,” Pike says simply. “He loves you more than anything in the world. And I know he’s important to you. And if there’s some reason that doing this would make you uncomfortable, or if you feel like it would mess up your relationship with Scanlan-”

“Pike,” Kaylie gently cuts her off. Pike gives her a hopeful look, and now it’s Kaylie’s turn to struggle for words. Reciting tales and songs in front of crowd is easy. Talking about emotions in front of future family members is… harder. “I know how happy you two make each other. And I know for a fact that he’s a better person for having known you.” She smirks. “Marrying you will be the smartest thing he’s ever done.”

Pike looks like she wants to laugh and cry and give Kaylie a hug all at the same time. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Kaylie nods understandingly and raises her cup. “To your future happiness.”

Pike knocks her cup against Kaylie’s. “And to our family.”


	6. Late Nights And Bloody Knuckles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6- Yasha & Grog! (yes I know it's late, I had some internet issues last night. Just pretend I posted this 12 hours ago.)  
> Enjoy!

Yasha hates hospitals. It’s the smell. The unnaturally sterile surroundings. The prodding doctors. But she got a little too reckless in that last fight, and she’s pretty sure she has a few bruised ribs. _Bruised,_  she had insisted, not broken, but Mollymauk wouldn’t stop pestering her until she finally relented and allowed him to drag her to the ER.

Yasha sinks down in the chair and casts a glance at Mollymauk, who’s currently leaning over the check-in desk. He’s probably trying to sweet-talk the person at the computer into allowing treatment without asking for pesky things like last names. Knowing him, he’ll probably succeed.

A throbbing in her side makes Yasha wince.  She tries to reposition herself, but it’s just not possible to get comfortable. The ribs are her main concern, but Yasha can’t deny the other bruises she’s earned. Her whole body is starting to ache, and judging by the way her face feels, she may also have a black eye. And of course, her scraped knuckles are still smarting.

It’s nearing 4 a.m., and the waiting room is practically empty, so it’s noticeable when the doors to the ER fly open with a sudden bang. A giant of a man enters the room, holding what looks like an old t-shirt against his arm. He’s followed by a scrawny-looking guy with long dark hair who practically shoves him into the chair next to Yasha and storms toward the check-in desk. The larger guy notices Yasha staring and gives her a bloody grin. “That kind of night, eh?”

Yasha shrugs. “I guess so.” She glances at the man’s arm, where blood has started to seep through the t-shirt. He notices her gaze and laughs.

“This is nothin’. Ain’t the first time I’ve been stabbed. Little bastard was slippery, but I got him in the end.” He starts to reach a hand out, then winces and clutches his side. Yasha can’t help but notice that he also sports freshly scraped knuckles that can only come from a fistfight. He eventually gives up on the handshake and settles for a friendly nod in Yasha’s direction. “Name’s Grog, by the way.”

“Yasha.” Yasha shifts uncomfortably. Awkward small talk is even more uncomfortable than bruised ribs. “Do you get stabbed often, then?”

“Oh, all the time,” Grog says happily. “What ‘bout you? You look like you’ve seen a few good fights before.”

A small smile flits across Yasha’s face. “You should see the other guys.”

“Guys? How many?”

“Three.”

“And you won? _Nice.”_ Grog gives her a wild grin. “Nothing like a good fight, is there?”

“I do like fighting,” Yasha says. And it’s true- fighting is simple. Yasha likes simple. “And I’m pretty strong.”

“I bet I could take you.” Grog laughs, then cast a disappointed glance at his arm. “Though not now, I guess.” He glares at his wound, as if personally insulted. “Pike’s not gonna be happy, but what I supposed to go? Vax is always gettin’ into some sorta trouble. I gotta make sure he doesn’t get himself hurt.”

“I know what you mean,” Yasha replies. She thinks of Mollymauk, and of the guys at the bar who had too much drink and started hurling insults. Mollymauk would never admit to being anything other than amused at the words that get thrown his way, but Yasha doesn’t care. She isn’t going to let anyone talk to her friend like that. “Sometimes you just have to punch somebody. Really hard.”

“Yeah!” Grog looks delighted for a moment, but his expression quickly shifts to terrified when a small woman in doctor scrubs marches into the room.

“Grog Strongjaw! What did you do to yourself!”

“Wasn’t _me,”_ Grog protests, but the woman- Pike, Yasha assumes- cuts him off.

“Vax told me-”

“Oh, don’t listen to _him-”_

Pike makes an angry noise. Mollymauk approaches from behind her, waving a hand in the air.

“Excuse me, but we’ve been waiting to see someone!”

“Take care of him first,” Yasha says, nodding towards Grog. “Not to be dramatic, but he’s literally bleeding onto the floor right now.”

Grog looks down at the small pool of blood that’s dripped through the soaked t-shirt and onto the floor. “Oh. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Pike shakes her head, but the look she gives the two injured fighters is a fond one. “Both of you, follow me. We’ll find rooms for you.”

As she leads them away, Grog leans over to Yasha and whispers, “Don’t let her fool you. My buddy Pike loves a good scrap.”

“I heard that!” Pike snaps as she turns back to give Grog a stern look. Her eyes slide over to Yasha in an appraising manner. “You’re like him, huh? Fighting drunks in dirty bars?”

Yasha looks over at Grog. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“I figured as much.” Pike’s tone is somewhere between concerned admiring. “Just be careful out there, okay?” Before Yasha can respond, Pike motions her into a room. “You wait here. Another doctor will come around in a minute. Grog, this way.”

Before Grog leaves, he stops at Yasha’s side and holds out a closed fist. “Keep giving ‘em hell, Yasha.”

Yasha hesitated for a moment, then slowly raises her fist to bump against his. Her bloody knuckles sting in protest, but she smiles anyway. “You too, Grog.”


	7. Give And Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7- Jester & Nott! This one's pretty short, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Happy CR Relationship Week!

Some people are givers.

That’s what Jester is. She gives willingly and wildly, in a way Nott has never seen and almost can’t comprehend. She gives money when she has it, tipping in gold and reaching for the finest items in stores. She gives help in the form of magic and protection and laughter. She gives small bunches of flowers and proclamations of friendship, to Nott of all people.

Nothing is given for free in Nott’s world- not sweet tokens like flowers, and certainly not the weight of trust that accompanies the title of _friend._ But she’s starting to suspect that Jester is from a completely different world than her, one where a person can care without expecting anything in return. It occurs to Nott that this type of giving is its own kind of bravery.

 

Some people are takers.

That’s what Nott is. Jester notices this without judgment, because she knows that’s how Nott stays alive. She takes and money and food and supplies and alcohol. She took herself away from her old home. She took Caleb from that jail cell.

Jester’s life has never involved much taking. She goes where fate and her whims have led her, listening to her mother and The Traveler, and for all her tricks and distractions she never tries to take any more control than she is given. She sees the way Nott protects what is _hers,_ whether that be a shiny button or a dirty wizard, and the goblin’s loyalty practically leaves her in awe.

 

Jester gives, and Nott takes, and maybe that’s why they make such a good team.


End file.
